Knights and Kink Romance Boxed Set

by Jill Elaine Hughes

  He obeyed. He shimmied off the custom-tailored suit, the silk oxford shirt with platinum cufflinks, the Italian wingtips, and a wifebeater-style undershirt. He left on his Patek Phillipe watch, along with his very ordinary white cotton boxers. Reduced to this state, Dexter looked like a scrawny, pathetic old man—not a powerful international freelance political spy feared by elected officials and governments alike. His chest had a light smattering of white hair, his shoulders were stooped, his neck droopy, and he had a mild case of psoriasis on his left shin. There was no mistaking his sexual vitality, however—his cock pointed due north, and to my shock, by the size of the bulge at his crotch, he was even more well-endowed than his son. By the looks of it, the man probably owned a million dollars’ worth of stock in the company that made Viagra.

  Dexter stood and waited for my next command, still not shimmying off his boxers.

  “Are you forgetting something, Slave?” I demanded.

  He shook his head no.

  I sighed. “You may keep your underwear on if that is what you wish,” I said with distaste. “Though there is little I can do to satisfy your urges that way.”

  Dexter shrugged his shoulders and grinned, as if that were perfectly all right with him.

  I sighed again. “Well, Slave, you aren’t making my job very easy,” I said. “I will give you permission to speak so you can tell me what it is you are looking for in a Mistress if you refuse to disrobe completely.”

  Dexter swallowed hard three times, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “I wish to be tied up and whipped,” he said in a small voice. “And then I would like to watch you satisfy yourself, Mistress.”

  A slow smile spread across my face. I could have some fun with this. “Slave!” I shouted. “May I remind you that you are not the one who is supposed to be giving orders!”

  “Yes, Mistress,” Dexter said meekly. “Forgive me, Mistress.”

  “You are forgiven, Slave, for so long as you don’t speak out of turn,” I barked. “Now because I am a good an ethical Mistress, I am willing to entertain your proposal on one condition. I will satisfy myself under your gaze on the condition that you will answer truthfully any question I put forth to you during our games. Any question at all, on any topic. If at any time I suspect that you are lying, our sex play will stop and I will not grant your request. Do you agree to these conditions, Slave?”

  Dexter smiled and nodded.

  “Good,” I said. “Then let us begin.”

  I went to the small endtable Rodney had placed in the chamber ahead of time, and pulled out its single drawer. From there I retrieved the two sets of black leather bindings and the matching blindfold. I directed Dexter to sit in the “prisoner of war” position, with his arms linked behind him and his head thrown back. I bound his ankles and wrists tightly, and then affixed the blindfold tightly over his eyes. To test his vision, I flicked my fingers right in front of the blindfold to see if he flinched. He didn’t.

  Satisfied that he couldn’t see a thing, I flung open the curtains so the gathered voyeurs could get a better view. Rodney gave me a smile and a thumbs-up signal to show that I was doing well so far. The Post editor-in-chief was taking prodigious notes, while the senators and other officials were staring transfixed, wide-eyed and gape-mouthed. I ventured that they’d never seen nor heard anything quite like this before.

  I set my long whip aside and pulled my hand whip out of my waistband. I circled Dexter’s seated body three times, crashing my platform heels hard against the tiles so the sound would disorient him to the point he wouldn’t know when the first blow was coming. He jerked his head this way and that, trying to figure out where I was standing, to no avail.

  Once I knew I had him off guard, I began decorating Dexter’s stooped back and shoulders with light slaps from my hand-whip. He threw his head back even deeper into the “prisoner of war” position with each blow, his mouth open with ecstasy. I kept dusting him with light, stinging blows until the skin on his upper back and shoulders was bright red. Once I had him teetering over the edge, I tucked my hand-whip back into my waistband and withdrew several steps. Dexter jerked his blindfolded head about, trying in vain to discern where I was. His erection grew limp; he was obviously distressed that the blows had stopped so abruptly. He opened his mouth to speak, but then clapped it back shut again, fearing my reprisals.

  Once I was about eight feet away from him, I clapped my hands and began to speak. “Slave, before you will be permitted any more of my precious blows to your body, you must answer the following series of questions. Answer them truthfully. If at any time I suspect you are lying, our session will end. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Mistress Hyacinth,” Dexter said, his voice trembling with pent-up sexual tension.

  “Good. Slave, here is your first question. Why did you come to St. Lucia? What business do you have here? Tell the whole truth, please.” I took my long whip from its spot on the endtable in anticipation of Dexter’s unwillingness to tell the whole truth.

  Just as I knew he would, Dexter hesitated. “Well, ahhhh—” he mumbled. “It’s sort of a long, complicated story—”

  I cracked my whip. “Slave, I don’t care how long or complicated the truth might be. Just tell the truth. Or I will banish you from the chamber. Understand?”

  Dexter bit his lip, hesitated some more. He glanced down at his crotch and studied just how large his erection had become. There was no going back now. “All right, Mistress, I’ll tell you,” he said. “But you might have a hard time believing what I say.”

  “Try me,” I said in my deepest dominatrix voice. “You might be surprised.”

  Dexter breathed a heavy sigh. “I came to St. Lucia because I had business here,” he said in a small, timid voice.

  I pounded my whip handle against my fist, startling him. “What kind of business, Slave?”

  Dexter cleared his throat. “I’m an independent contractor,” he said.

  Big surprise there, I thought. “You’ll need to be more specific than that, Slave,” I said.

  “Essentially, I’m an information broker,” Dexter went on. “I gather sensitive information about important people and then I sell it to the highest bidder. Sometimes I work on a limited contractual basis, too. I came to St. Lucia because there was information here I wanted to obtain.”

  Dexter’s evasive answers were trying my patience. “You are not giving me the information I want, Slave,” I boomed. “Get to the point, or you’ll need to get out of here.”

  Dexter winced. “All right, all right! I came here because I set somebody up specifically to generate the kind of information I like to sell.”

  Now we were getting somewhere. “Go on,” I said, deepening my voice. I couldn’t risk Dexter recognizing it.

  “I met a young lady who was romantically involved with my son,” Dexter went on, his voice quavering now. “A young lady who also happened to be a PR staffer for Senator Hanforth Grayle. You know, the one who got caught with his pants down on TV a couple weeks back. So it goes without saying she was desperate for a new job. And I got her one, hook, line, and sinker. She doesn’t know it yet, but she works for me. Only I’ll be paid for the work she does, not her. Pretty sweet, huh?”

  “Mmmm-hmmm,” I mumbled, slapping my hand-whip against my palm over and over again. It was all I could do to keep myself from strangling him with it. “And what exactly were you having this young lady doing?” I asked, my voice lowering even more.

  Now Dexter was completely infatuated with himself. “She wanted to have some kind of political sex party down here in the islands in order to bribe someone into giving her a job. I hooked her up with a bunch of high-powered officials with odd sex tastes who’d be willing to do just that. And I also arranged for Rocky Robinson, the editor-in-chief of the Washington Post to be in on it, so the Post would think they’d be getting the sex-scandal scoop of the century. The thing is, what the Post editor doesn’t know is, the parent corporation that currently owns the newsp
aper wants to oust their chief editor and bring somebody new in. Except the current chief editor still has two years left on his contract, so they needed to come up with a justification for him to be fired outright.”

  Just behind me, Rocky Robinson gasped.

  But Dexter was so full of himself and his story that he didn’t notice. “So the parent corporation hired me to lure him down here in what he thought was a big scoop, but really is a way to trap him in unethical behavior. Which isn’t exactly legal, but that doesn’t matter as long as nobody important knows the truth.”

  This statement made my blood boil.

  “And the paper plans to run the sex story regardless,” he said, proud of himself. “It’s a win-win situation for them, so long as they don’t get caught. And it ought to be, since they paid me a cool million to accomplish it.”

  I circled Dexter again, switching the hand whip for the full-length one and cracking it at every step. “So a greedy corporation hired you to frame their chief editor,” I said. “That’s certainly something to be proud of, Slave. But something tells me you’re still hiding something. That isn’t the only reason you came to St. Lucia, is it?”

  Dexter swallowed hard. He knew I’d caught him. “No, it isn’t, Mistress,” he stammered.

  “Then why don’t you tell me the whole truth, Slave?” I shouted, cracking my whip just outside of Dexter’s reach. “Or else we’ll consider this session of fun over for good.”

  Dexter’s masked head turned in the direction of the whip-cracking sound; he obviously longed for its stinging touch upon his bare skin. But it wasn’t to be unless he obeyed my final demand. And I could tell he wasn’t thrilled at that prospect. A cold sweat had broken out on the sliver of forehead that wasn’t covered by the mask, and his whole body was shaking.

  “I also came here to settle some personal business of my own,” he whispered. “Personal, private business.”

  “Is that so, Slave?” I whispered, inches away from his ear. “What kind of personal business?”

  Dexter fidgeted his bound wrists and hands along the floor. “Well, it was a few different things,” he said, quaking with fear. I wasn’t sure if that fear was of me and my whip or of the fact that he was about the reveal a deep, dark truth about himself. “I wanted to see if I could get in on some of the sex fun myself, for one—but to do it in a way that nobody would find out. Which is exactly why I’m here with you, Mistress. I hope you’ll keep that a secret. I can pay you to keep it a secret, if necessary.”

  I gave Rodney and Rocky Robinson a sidelong glance in the gallery, just to make sure they’d registered that comment. Now we had on the record that Dexter wanted to bribe me to keep silent about the fact he’d participated in the illicit sex party he’d baited me into setting up in the first place. Rocky Robinson was scribbling away on his reporters’ pad, while Rodney’s expression had gone cold and pained underneath his pirate’s mask. I wasn’t sure if Rodney was upset by the increasingly tangled web that Dexter wove, or just by the fact that he was having to watch his father get humiliated. Whatever the reason, I was walking on thin ice. I decided then and there to wrap things up.

  “You won’t need to pay me anything, Slave,” I said. “You’re secret is safe with me.” Which was technically true. I didn’t plan on saying anything publicly about what I’d just learned. But of course I couldn’t control what anyone else in the room did.

  “Thank you, Mistress,” he said, breathing a sigh of relief. “There’s just one more little thing I haven’t told you.”

  “And what’s that, Slave?”

  “I also came to St. Lucia because I have a score to settle with my son. And I know he’s here somewhere. I just haven’t figured out which hotel he’s staying in yet.”

  Now it was Rodney’s turn to gasp.

  “I see,” I said. “And what exactly do you wish to discuss with your son?”

  Dexter chewed his lip. “This is where it gets embarrassing, Mistress,” he said. “You see, my son and I had a falling out many years ago, and I’ve always felt badly about it. He and I always disagreed about how I did business. But we’re actually quite alike. His newspaper just does a legal version of what I’ve always done in the shadows. And I think that after all these years of hassling Rodney about how he chooses to make his living, that I should give up my own business and join forces with him. It’s something that is very hard for me to do, but in my old age I’ve come to learn that sometimes the hardest thing to do is also the best thing to do.”

  I was stunned. This was the last possible thing I could have expected Dexter to say. Perhaps the man really was human after all. And the sad expression on his face—visible despite the blindfold—was proof enough he was telling the truth. “You are a good and obedient Slave,” I said. “You have told the truth, as I demanded. And now you shall be rewarded. “ I raised my whip above my head, preparing to land the final, delectable blows that would bring Dexter to climax.

  But Dexter heard the whip’s swish through the air and jerked to attention “Wait!” he cried. “There’s still more I haven’t told you, Mistress.”

  I stopped the whip just in time. “Go on, Slave.”

  “The time has come for me to retire from the freelance media spy business altogether,” he said. “I’m getting too old for this kind of thing. And I’ve come to realize after many years of doing it, that it’s just plain wrong. There are better ways to do this kind of business, and I think my son has found that better way with the Beltway Times. The Times might not be the best newspaper out there, but it is a newspaper—a public venue that tries to serve the public interest instead of attacking people from the shadows. I decided that this big score here on St. Lucia would be the last thing I ever did on my own. I was planning to take the money I made on this deal and offer it as an investment in Rodney’s company, and then offering myself as a consultant. I only hope it’s not too late for me to patch things up with my son.”

  Rodney stood up. “It’s not too late, Dad.”

  Dexter jerked his masked head in Rodney’s direction. “Wha? Rodney! Where are you? What’s going on?”

  Rodney dashed to the middle of the submission chamber and tore off his father’s mask, then his own. “It’s me, Dad. I’m here. I’ve been watching and listening the whole time.” Rodney unbuckled the leather bindings from Dexter’s wrists and ankles, and hugged him.

  Dexter was flabbergasted at this turn of events. His cheeks had gone beet-red with surprise and embarrassment “But—why? What are you doing here? Why did you watch me and the—ahem—mistress go on and on for so long?” He glanced around the room, rubbing his eyes as they adjusted to the lights. “And who are all these people?”

  I stepped back, gave father and son some room. “Just some of the folks you were hoping to trap in your little web,” Rodney said with a chuckle. “You’re not the only one who can bait a good trap, you know.”

  Dexter flushed even deeper. “Well, I’ve really gotten myself into some deep shit, haven’t I?”

  “It’ll be all right, Dad,” Rodney said, exuberant. “We’ll work this all out in a way that benefits everyone.”

  Dexter hugged his son back, then turned to me. “Well, Mistress, I think I’ll have to take a raincheck on the rest of our session. My son and I have a lot of catching up to do.”

  I gave Dexter a single nod. “You are a good and obedient Slave, I said, keeping my voice in its deep, low Hyacinth Slaughter disguise. “And it was a pleasure to dominate you.”

  “The pleasure was all mine,” Dexter replied. He gave my supertight dominatrix getup a last once-over, and licked his lips. “You’re a fantastic dominatrix, Mistress Hyacinth. Forgive me for saying so, but something about you seems awful familiar. Have I worked with you somewhere else? I’ve visited lots of S&M places over the years, and I could swear I’ve heard your voice somewhere before—“

  Rodney took his father by the arm and started dragging him away. “I’m sure it’s just a coincidence, Dad. Come on, let
’s go.” Rodney shot me a wink as he threw his father his pile of clothes and led him out of the room.

  Rocky Robinson looked up from his reporter’s pad and made a beeline for me. “Well, I guess that means we’ll be missing the main event,” he said, disappointed. “Though I did glean some very juicy information from that little—display you put on.” He sucked in his breath while undressing me with his eyes. “That’s quite a talent you have there, Mistress,” he said, licking his lips seductively.

  “Thank you, Mr. Robinson,” I said flatly. “But if it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer we kept our relationship strictly business.”

  “Of course,” he said, nearly choking on his tongue. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a few interviews to conduct.” He disappeared into the crowd of senators and officials that had gathered in the rear of the room, all nervously whispering and glancing over their shoulders at me. They all seemed to know full well that they’d dodged a bullet.

  Rebecca sashayed up, still in her Naughty Nurse uniform. “Well, all’s well that ends well, as they say,” she sighed. “It looks like Rodney has his father, the press—and everything else—under control. Our careers might just survive after all.” She paused and gave me a brash look. “Though I was looking forward to watching you satisfy yourself, Jasmine.”

  I gave her a sly smile. “There may still be a chance for that,” I said with a wink. Then I gathered up my scattered domination implements and slipped away back to my hotel suite.

  ****

  Still dressed in my red catsuit, I kicked off my platform heels and stretched out on my bed for a nap. It had certainly been an interesting day. Thanks to my fledgling skills as a dominatrix, it seemed that not only had a major political sex scandal been averted and numerous careers (including my own) saved from destruction, Rodney’s relationship with his father was about to change for the better. But there were still plenty of questions left unanswered. Like, what would happen to the Beltway Times now that Rodney’s plan to turn it into a hard-hitting platform for investigative journalism had hit an unexpected roadblock? What path would my career in Washington take next? What would my relationship with Rodney be like from now on?